The First Councel

“Please, Michael… ”

It’s too late. There’s nothing I can do, and both of us know it. Below us, the chandelier hits the floor with a wrenching crash.

Once again, our eyes meet. Lamb’s not laughing anymore. This time, his eyes are filled with tears. The glass rains down. His floor disappears. And gravity grabs him by the legs. Sucked down into the ever-widening hole, he still struggles to claw his way up. But you can’t avoid the epicenter.

“Miiiaaaaaeeeeeee-” he screams the entire way down.

Then he meets the chandelier. The crunching sound alone will give me nightmares for years.

As the last shards fall, a high-pitched alarm screams out of the Indian Treaty Room. I lean forward over the railing. The stained glass is almost completely gone, leaving a gaping hole. It’ll take forever to fill. On the floor below, amid the shattered glass, are the broken remains of the man responsible. For Caroline. For Vaughn. And most of all, for Nora.

Behind me, I hear a soft moan. Spinning around, I rush to her side and drop to my knees. “Nora, are you… ”

“I-I-Is he gone?” she whispers, barely able to get the words out. She shouldn’t be conscious. Her voice gurgles with blood.

“Yeah,” I say, once again fighting back tears. “He’s gone. You’re safe.”

She fights to smile, but it’s too much of a strain. Her chest convulses. She’s fading fast. “M-M-Michael…?”

“I’m here,” I tell her, gently lifting her in my arms. “I’m right here, Nora.”

The tears roll down my face. She knows this is it. Her head sags and she slowly gives in. “P-P-Please…,” she coughs. “Please, Michael… don’t tell my dad.”

I take a sharp gulp of air to keep myself together. Nodding vigorously, I pull her close to my chest, but her arms just dangle behind her. Her eyes begin to roll back in her head. Tailspinning, I furiously brush her hair from her face. There’s a final twitch in her torso-and then-she’s gone.

“No!” I shout. “NO!” I grab her head, kissing her forehead over and over. “Please, Nora! Please don’t go! Please! Please!” None of it does any good. She’s not moving.

Her head slumps against my arm and a rasping, ghostly wheeze releases the final air from her lungs. With the lightest touch I can muster, I carefully close her eyes. It’s finally over. Self-destruction complete.

CHAPTER 40

They don’t let me out of the Sit Room until a quarter past midnight, when the empty halls of the OEOB are nothing more than a bureaucratic ghost town. In some ways, I think they planned it on purpose-this way, no one’s around to ask questions. Or gossip. Or point at me and whisper, “He’s the one-that’s him.” All I have is silence. Silence and time to think. Silence and… Nora…

I lower my head and shut my eyes, trying to pretend it never happened. But it did.

As I make my way back to my office, there’re two sets of shoes echoing through the cavernous hallway: mine, and those of the Secret Service agent directly behind me. They may have patched up my shoulder, but when we reach Room 170, my hand still shakes as I open the door. Watching me carefully, he follows me inside. In the anteroom, I flip on the lights and once again face the silence. It’s too late for anyone to be here. Pam, Julian-they both left hours ago. When it was still light out.

I’m not surprised that the place is empty, but I have to admit I was hoping someone would be here. As it is, though, I’m on my own. It’s going to be like that for a while. Opening the door to my office, I try to tell myself otherwise, but in a place like the White House, there aren’t many people who’ll-

“Where the hell’ve you been?” Trey asks, bounding off my vinyl sofa. “Are you okay? Did you get a lawyer? I heard you didn’t have one, so I called my sister’s brother-in-law, Jimmy, who put me in touch with this guy Richie Rubin, who said he’d-”

“It’s okay, Trey. I don’t need a lawyer.”

He looks up at the Secret Service agent who just stepped in behind me. “You sure about that?”

I shoot a look to the agent. “Do you think we can… ”

“I’m sorry, sir. My orders are to wait until you’re-”

“Listen, I’m just looking for a few minutes with my friend. That’s all I ask. Please.”

He studies both of us. Eventually, he says, “I’ll be out here if you need me.” He heads back to the anteroom, closing the door as he leaves.

When he’s gone, I expect another onslaught of questions. Instead, Trey stays quiet.

On the windowsill, I glance at the toaster. Nora’s name is gone. I stare down at the remaining digital green letters, almost as if it’s a mistake. Praying it’s a mistake. Slowly, each line of glowing letters seems to stare back-blinking, blazing-their flickering more pronounced now that it’s dark. So dark. Oh, Nora… My legs give way, and I lean back on the corner of my desk.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Trey offers.

I can barely stand.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he adds, “Nora wouldn’t have… It wouldn’t have been a good life. Not after this.”

I shake my head unresponsively. “Yeah. Right.” With a deep swallow, it once again all goes numb.